


we have birds but never hawks

by CallMeBombshell



Category: Batman (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeBombshell/pseuds/CallMeBombshell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s amateur science, because when it’s not magic, it’s always amateur science, a moron with a vendetta and a half-assed bomb that doesn’t tear New York City into pieces, but does tear a pretty massive hole in space, a hole which swallows Kate and Clint in mid-air as they try to jump clear of the blast."</p>
            </blockquote>





	we have birds but never hawks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [defcontwo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/defcontwo/gifts).



It’s amateur science, because when it’s not magic, it’s always amateur science, a moron with a vendetta and a half-assed bomb that doesn’t tear New York City into pieces, but does tear a pretty massive hole in space, a hole which swallows Kate and Clint in mid-air as they try to jump clear of the blast. 

They drop through like rocks, complete with the hard landing on the other side. Kate grits her teeth against the shock of pain when her knees collide painfully with gritty, broken pavement. Beside her, Clint grunts, hitting the ground with a muffled thump. Looking up, Kate can see the rip in the universe, a bizarre, ragged slash of cloudless Manhattan sky hovering a couple stories about the ground.

As she watches, the hole seems the waver, slowly closing, the ragged edges seeming to stitch themselves together. By the time Kate gets to her feet, it’s nearly disappeared; she stands there on unfamiliar ground with a sinking feeling in her gut and watches the hole shrink to nothing.

“Well,” she says after a moment. “Fuck.”

Next to her, Clint stands carefully, eyes on the sky above them, but doesn’t say anything. Finally he sighs and turns his head to look around. Kate does the same, turning her eyes away from the stretch of clouds where her universe used to be.

They’ve landed in an alley, dirty and gross and stinking in the hot summer night air. It could almost be just another alley in New York, except for the way the shadows here are just a little deeper, a little darker, and the clouds just a little lower, blocking out more light than seems possible. There’s a sense of menace here, not quite like being watched, but like there are eyes somewhere in this city, wherever they are, and they should be careful not to be spotted.

“Well,” Clint says, brushing off his knees. “Could be worse. At least we’re somewhere we can breathe.”

Kate nods. She doesn’t trust her voice right now. Clint glances at her, mouth tight.

“We should find somewhere to hole up,” he says. “Figure out what’s going on.”

Kate nods again. It’s a good idea; the feeling of being watched is starting to creep down her spine, making the cold ball in her stomach turn to ice.

They check their gear quickly (everything accounted for, nothing broken), and then they step forward, moving farther down the alley and into the shadows.

They’ve only managed to creep down the alley a couple of blocks before a small shadow detaches itself from the roof of a building just ahead and drops down silently to land in front of them. Clint’s got his bow up in a heartbeat, arrow knocked and aimed right at the shadow, lurking just beyond the edge of the pool of dirty yellow light coming from the streetlight behind them. 

Kate reaches for her bow as well, but the shadow moves first, a dark-gloved hand snapping out from underneath a barely-visible sweep of shadow-black fabric. Something small and dark goes flying and Clint sucks in a surprised gasp as the bow is knocked out of his hands.

Kate hesitates, hands trembling slightly on her bow, but the shadow just braces, clearly getting ready to disarm her, too. They all stand frozen for a moment, and Kate takes the opportunity to look closer. 

The shadow is clearly a person, not very tall, and now that she’s looking, Kate can make out the long straight fall of the black cloak at the person’s shoulders, face hidden by darkness. The shadow looks like no one and nothing she’s ever seen before. It’s unsettling.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb, here,” the shadow says, and wow, okay, that’s definitely a girl’s voice from behind the black pointed mask, “and guess that you’re not from around here.”

“Oh, wow. Er. Hi there,” Clint says smoothly. “Nice night, don’t you think?”

“What are you doing here?” the girl asks, pointed. 

Clint throws on his usual we’re in trouble grin, wide and guileless and disarming. “Oh, well, just a couple of tourists, you know, out to see the sights. Got any recommendations?”

The girl is silent for a moment, and there’s something about it that makes Kate think she’s probably staring in that particularly incredulous way that people do with Clint.

“Unbelieveable…” she mutters. “Of course I get the weirdos.”

“At least we’re charming?” Clint tries. 

Kate rolls her eyes and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose to ward off the headache she can sense coming on. She’s not sure she wants to display that much of a reaction to this girl, though. Clint’s good at being totally ridiculous right before he snaps into totally professional mode, but right now Kate is tired and annoyed and sort of really not okay with apparently not being in her world; she’s trying to hold onto every scrap of being in control that she can find, here.

The girl stares again, and Kate would be willing to bet that she’s raising an eyebrow or two underneath that nifty mask of hers.

“Gotham doesn’t have tourists,” she says, voice flat. “Anyone coming here from somewhere else is here for a reason, and most of those reasons mean trouble for me and mine.”

Kate risks a glance at Clint, hoping to see some sort of recognition on his face, because she’s sure as hell never heard of Gotham, but his face is a distinctly not-reassuring blank; he’s not no more idea than she does.

“And what makes you think we’re trouble?” Clint asks, voice tight and faux-polite.

“Well for one,” the girl says, “the whole archer gig is more Starling City’s thing, not ours. And for another, this is Park Row. There’s only so many kinds of people who hang out is this craphole, and you don’t fit any of them. For a third,” she continues, voice going hard, “I know every costume who runs in this town. And I don’t know you two at all. So, who the hell are you, and what they hell are you doing in my city?”

There’s a strained silence, and then Clint sighs. “Okay, the ‘why are we here’ part of that question is sort of complicated, so let’s just go with: we’re here by accident. As for who we are, I’m Hawkeye.”

“I’m Hawkeye, too,” Kate says. “Comma, not number.”

The girl snorts. “Right. Whatever, Spartacus.”

“So who are you, then?” Kate asks, frowning, grip tightening on her bow. “I mean, you wanna play interrogator, I’d really like to know who the hell I’m talking to.”

The girl huffs a sigh. “Fair enough.”

She steps forward into the light, and Kate’s breath catches on blonde hair and bright eyes and her heart skips, her brain blanking out, thinking, _Cassie Cassie Cassie!_ before she blinks, the girl’s image rearranging before her eyes, blocking out Ant Girl’s specter.

The girl before her now is dressed head to toe in black and purple, cloak falling from her shoulders, pointed cowl covering half her face, leaving her mouth and eyes visible; she’s got a yellow utility belt slung around her hips, weighted and clearly fully equipped, the color matching the stylized yellow bat splashed across her chest.

“You can call me Batgirl,” she says, grin bright and sharp. “Welcome to Gotham.”

**Author's Note:**

> there may very well be more of this later. i blame sam for everything XD <3


End file.
